Apparently, I am cheap plastic. I don't even make for a fun child's toy. I am the unmoving kind. I won't break, but I have no hinges. I just stand in one single pose. A rigid upright stance of no emotion.

I get told to be made of this, and look like that. I am told I have no heart. That human is this condition over there, while I am just this thing of limits. Merely a cold rock in a world of molten warmth.

Are they wrong? Do I have life in these veins? Can I feel the wind or the pull of the stars? Am I just an image with no substance? A house that isn't a home? The dead in the world of life? What am I?

1 comment:

Skip said...

Not sure what to think about this one but I do like it.

Oh, and